


Touch of Blue (Touch of You)

by Lavendergaia



Series: Double Date Verse [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendergaia/pseuds/Lavendergaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After enduring yet another of Skye's ideas of what dates should be, Fitz and Jemma recover and experience something together for the first time.</p><p>Sequel to Stay The Course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch of Blue (Touch of You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [someshipperfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/someshipperfan/gifts).



> For my Tumblr Milestone Fic Giveaway. Thanks to Fitzsimmonsy for betaing!

“Why does it seem like Skye is choosing what we’re doing every other week?” Fitz said as the door to his bunk closed behind them. He scrubbed at his ear, rolling his eyes as he pulled away his hand to reveal more blue paint. “I thought Date Night was supposed to be a rotation.”

“Technically, this was Trip’s week,” Jemma said. When she pulled off her socks, there was a clear line of demarcation between her clean, pale feet and the rest of her smooth legs, which were smeared with paint. They had decided as a group to leave their shoes at the entrance to the Playground because no one wanted to be blamed by May for tracking paint through the base. “I think he just decided to do whatever Skye wanted.”

Fitz snorted, even though he had done the exact same thing the week before when Jemma had wanted to see some rare fish exhibit at the aquarium. “She just wanted to beat us so that she got to choose dinner tonight and would get to choose a place with dancing. I hate dancing. Her and Trip against us is hardly even fair. It should have been girls against boys. Or me and her against you and Trip, at least that’s an even height ratio.” Grumbling under his breath, he said, “There’s nothing romantic about paintball.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, swiping her thumb across his cheekbone and coming away with a smudge of blue on her skin. “I think it brings out your eyes.” She giggled as he made a face at her. “You said the stain solution was in here?”

“It’s on top of my dresser,” he said, then headed into the bathroom to run the water for the tub. The warm water filled up his bath quickly as he did his best to wash his hands, trying to get off what he could before he touched anything important. All he needed was to mess up an invention in progress or turn a blueprint actually blue.

When Jemma came into his bathroom, she poured a generous capful of her personally invented stain solution into the tub, a pleased smile on her face when the water turned a buttery yellow color. Then she stripped off her shirt, throwing it into the warm water in the tub. Fitz inhaled sharply at the sudden expanse of skin presented to him so casually, then averted his eyes. It seemed as good a time as any to wash his hands again.

It wasn’t that he’d never seen her without her shirt off before—they’d gotten that far at least—just not in such…fluorescent lighting. Any part of Jemma the least bit bare did amazing and uncomfortable things to him. Fitz couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted back over to her as she unbuttoned her khaki shorts, pushing them down her legs and dropping them into the water. His jaw dropped and he quickly snapped it shut, swallowing hard as his eyes roamed over her hips and legs, filing away the fact that his girlfriend owned a matching hot pink bra and panty set for any day when he was not feeling his happiest.

“Fitz?” she said and he jerked back, his hands flying out from under the still running faucet of the sink.

He quickly turned off the sink, putting his still wet hands on his hips as he faced her. “Hm?”

The smile she gave him was clearly amused as she pulled her ponytail out of the elastic. “Are you going to put your clothes in the tub? They need to soak for a few hours before we put them in the laundry, but they should be good as new after that.”

He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he pulled back to find his palm covered in paint again. “Yeah. Yeah, right.” He tried to rub the paint off on his shirt as Jemma walked over to him, unbuttoning his plaid shirt with deliberate fingers. “Uh, Jem, you know that…you know I can do my own shirt, right?”

“I know,” she said when it was hanging open. She leaned up to kiss his neck, then left him alone in the bathroom. Fitz stripped off the rest of his clothes as fast as he could, leaving himself clad only in his boxers—his undershirt had only gotten the slightest touch of paint from a bleed through, but well, better safe than sorry with stains—before he joined her back in his bedroom. She was looking through his dresser, possible to make sure he was actually doing his laundry.

“So, if all of our clothes are in my tub, where am I supposed to shower?”

She smiled at him from over her shoulder. “I’m sure my shower is big enough for the both of us.” His heart stopped in his chest as she pulled out one of his shirts. “Do you mind if I wear this? It’s only a quick trip back to my room and it’s already large on you, it should cover me just fine.”

“Yeah, no, sure.” He couldn’t help but wonder what people might say if anyone spotted them coming out of his room with her wearing nothing but his shirt; Hunter would say they were doing it, but Hunter thought everyone was doing it.

“Thank you.” Instead of putting it on, she just draped it over her arm. Standing and facing him, she wrapped her free hand around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. Fitz hummed happily in the back of his throat, lips gliding over hers. She smelled of coconut from the sunscreen she insisted that they both wear, but somehow that was doing it for him as he inched closer to her.

As his hands came to settle on her hips, he felt her shiver at his touch, a tiny groan in the back of her throat. He parted his lips to run his tongue over hers, tracing the seam until he could taste her. Jemma leaned up to press herself against him, the silk of her bra brushing against his skin. His fingers flexed against her soft skin as she sighed against him, the feeling of her lips on his making him stir in his boxers. “See,” he murmured against her cheek, trying to hide how hard he was breathing even as he felt her panting against his neck. “That’s what I don’t like about paintball. No time to do this.”

It hadn’t been all bad. It was entirely possible that he’d been hit a few times because he’d been too busy looking at her legs in her shorts or how strong her arms had looked holding the paintball gun under all that gear. Maybe he had gotten in mind a few modifications to the ICERS purposefully to fit her arm span and preferred stance. He had followed her too closely to really be able to fire his gun at times, but he liked being able to press his face to the back of her head; her hair smelled like strawberries.

Jemma giggled, running her nails against his scalp in a way that made his knees go weak. “I seem to remember you thinking that the tire wall was a good place to hide behind to sneak a kiss.”

“Right, well, that was a…a distraction technique?”

“I’m pretty sure the goal isn’t to distract ourselves,” she said, her voice low and gaze fixed on his lips as she drew his mouth down to hers again. Fitz kissed her hard and his shirt slipped to the floor as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, holding on to him tightly. She nipped playfully at his bottom lip as the base of his palm skimmed up the curve of her hip.

Her high-pitched whimper only urged him to draw her closer, cupping the side of her breast in his hand. She sighed as she arched into his touch, her fingers curling around his shoulder. He could feel how warm she was even through the material of her bra as he massaged her. She made small hitches of pleasure in the back of her throat at his touch, leaning her entire body into his.

With the press of her hips against his, he knew she could feel how hard he was becoming. A flush of both embarrassment and arousal spread down his neck, but Jemma paid it no mind as she placed open mouthed kisses across his throat, letting her teeth drag every so often against the sensitive skin. Fitz leaned back so that he could kiss her again, but cringed as a flash of blue caught his eye. “I, uh, I think I got some paint on your bra.”

Jemma looked down quickly, her soft laughter filling the space between them as she saw the smudge of blue paint across the cup of her bra. “It’s okay, Fitz.”

“I’m really sorry,” he said, taking his paint-covered hand and rubbing it against his boxer shorts to remove any excess.

“Just have to drop it in the tub, I guess,” she murmured. She let her fingers trail lightly down his back before she pulled her hands away to reach behind herself and unsnap her bra. After sliding the straps down her arms, she let it fall to the floor by their feet. Neither of them made any move to bring it towards the tub.

Instead, Fitz cupped her cheeks in his hands, kissing her warmly. Jemma’s kisses were just as eager as she took a few steps backwards, one arm around his waist and the other hand searching for his bed. She broke away from his mouth before she sat down on his mattress, scooting back far enough that he could kneel between her spread thighs.

Not for the first time, Fitz was thankful for the large beds at the Playground as he lay Jemma across it, kissing her shoulder, her collarbone, every single inch of skin available to him. Seeing her spread out against his unmade sheets, her hair fanned out around her head, her eyes closed with pleasure, he had never seen her more beautiful. His lips lingered at the hollow of her throat before he sat up on his knees. Breathing heavily, he took each of her breasts in one of his hands; beneath his touch, he could feel her panting just as hard and was amazed to find that they were somehow synchronized. Her breasts were a firm weight in is hands, plush as he palmed them. Jemma gasped as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then bit her bottom lip the way she always did when he found that sensitive spot on her shoulder.

Swallowing hard, he leaned in to her other breast and swiped over her nipple with his tongue. She let out a small noise that he only took as encouragement, licking again, tracing around the areola with his tongue as she threw her head back. Fitz sucked gently at the soft skin of her breast; it wasn’t enough to leave a mark, though he knew nothing he could do could diminish their perfection. When he switched sides, he immediately sucked the nipple into his mouth, their mutual hunger for each other clear as she arched her back and he pressed his erection into her leg.

Jemma wound her fingers into his hair to hold him to her chest. Fitz had no intention of moving, loving the sound of her pleased whining. His clean hand danced its way down her stomach to her panties, tracing the edge of the hot pink lace before rubbing the outside of silk that covered her center. He could feel how wet she was even through the fabric and Jemma instantly bucked against the sensation, desperate for more.

Pushing on his shoulder almost disappointedly, she sat up as she guided him back into a kneeling position. Jemma kissed him hard as her hands wrapped around his neck and he could feel the desperation in her kiss. “Fitz, I want you,” she said, running her hand down his chest. Her eyes lit up as she slipped her hand into his boxers and wrapped around his erection; he bit back a curse at how amazing that simple touch was. As she stroked him, she pressed kisses all over his face, saying, “Please, please, please, I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

It was one of the most extraordinary things he’d ever learned in his life. Fitz did his best to tug off his boxers without dislodging her hand, but had to get off the bed to get a condom from his sock drawer. Trip had given him the box a few weeks ago after a routine supply run, leaving it on his desk with a wink and a pat on the back. When he turned back around, Jemma had moved up to put her head on his pillows and was wriggling out of her panties.

Jemma smiled at him as he joined her back on the bed, settling between her knees. He cursed silently as his hand trembled around the condom; it happened so rarely now that sometimes he even forgot it was a problem until it became one. Leaning up, Jemma kissed his hand, then took the condom from him kindly, sliding it on him with no problem. “I need you right now, Fitz,” she said breathlessly, staring up at him with dark eyes.

“Me too, Jemma,” he said, unable to even be surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

“Just…just go slow, alright?” she said softly, chewing at her lip. He nodded. He knew it hadn’t been as long for her as it had been for him, but he was aware that it had been a while.

After giving her a long kiss, he positioned himself and slid in gradually, leaning his head against her shoulder at the overwhelming sensation of her around him. He was almost completely inside of her before he felt her thighs grip his hips. Fitz stilled within her, letting both of them adjust as he pressed his lips against her skin, murmuring things that were possibly not even comprehensible words or phrases—he just needed her to know that he loved her.

Soon, he felt her legs relax and soft hands rubbing his shoulders, and he knew that it was okay to move again. He pulled out, thrusting back in gently, trying to build up a decent rhythm. Looking up at Jemma’s face was pure heaven: her full mouth was parted in a silent moan, her eyes shut in pleasure. He broke his pace to lean in and kiss her cheek, just a soft brush of his lips against her skin.

When he pushed inside of her the next time it was a bit harder, faster, until he was completely buried within her. One of Jemma’s legs wrapped around his waist, as if she could not stand to have him any less than completely filling her up. “God, Fitz,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “More, more.”

He hitched her leg higher up his hip, this new angle apparently a good one as she moaned loudly and bucked up as he pushed into her. He drove into her as quickly as he could, one leg holding her thigh and the other leveraging himself above her so he could look down at her face. As her eyes fluttered open, Jemma’s hands tangled in his hair, drawing him down enough so that her lips could reach his chin and his jaw and his cheek and finally his lips, kissing him passionately.

She fell back against the pillows, leaving him breathless, and she stared at him with open desire. “Jemma,” he panted, turning his head to kiss her wrist. “I’m not gonna…not gonna last.”

Her first response was to roll her hips into his and he hissed at the intensity of it. “God, yes,” she said, moaning and stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I want you to come.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned into the touch of her palm as he doubled his effort at thrusting into her. He could feel the pressure starting to mount inside of him and his only goal was to get her as close as he was before he lost it.

Digging his fingers into the meaty softness of her thigh, it was only a few more strokes before he came, calling out her name. The pleasure was overwhelming and his arm almost buckled as he struggled to hold himself over her, his entire body awash with the sensation of his orgasm. When he could finally open his eyes again, she was looking at him with such fondness and admiration and love that he could do nothing but lean in and kiss her.

“You didn’t…” he said against her lips.

She didn’t seem bothered. “It’s alright.”

It certainly was not. Fitz pulled back and pushed inside of her again, smirking at the soft cry he wrenched out of her. Releasing her thigh carefully, he reached between their bodies until he found her clit. That sparked a groan from her and she pushed up into his hand. His fingers worked tirelessly against her, rubbing at the nub as he stroked in and out of her. “Come on, Jemma, I’ve got you,” he said, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. He pressed his mouth at the sensitive spot on her shoulder and beneath her ear before dragging his tongue along the outer shell. “I’m right here, Jem. I’m with you.”

“Fitz!” she shouted as she came, her body rocked with the pleasure of her orgasm. He didn’t stop rubbing her clit as she rode out the waves that had her arching her back, throwing her head side to side as she moaned and clung to him, hips desperately grinding against his. In all of his life, Fitz was entirely certain that he had never seen anything so beautiful as Jemma completely losing herself over to desire because of him. He couldn’t wait to do this every day for the rest of his life.

When he finally pulled out, pulling his hand away to wrap his arms around her, she kissed him slowly and languidly, still coming out of the haze of passion. “That was incredible,” she told him, leaning her forehead against his.

“Beyond incredible,” he agreed. Like everything with Jemma, it had been worth waiting for. Kissing her temple affectionately, he said, “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too, Fitz,” she said, fondness clear in her voice and her smile was she curled up into him.

After lying there for a few minutes, Fitz gave her a final kiss and got up to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. As she stretched on the bed, Jemma looked at the digital clock. Sighing, she said, “I guess we should get up and take that shower. We’ll never make it to dinner otherwise and you know how Skye gets.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, disappointed that he had to go to dinner and dancing with Skye and Trip, but also pleased that he would get to wash Jemma in the shower. He went to his dresser to find a casual shirt and boxers to wear to the short trip to her room, hearing the mattress creak behind him as Jemma got up.

“Oh, gosh,” she said and he turned to find Jemma struggling not to laugh. Abandoning his clothes in an open dresser drawer, he walked over to see what was so amusing. Jemma gestured to the bed and he saw it instantly: blue—and the occasional lime green, how had they managed to get their own color on themselves?—streaks of paint were smeared across his sheets, making it look like a poorly done modern art piece. She leaned her forehead against his arm, laughing as he sighed. “It must have come off of us, what with the body heat and the sweat and—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, grumbling under his breath. “Guess that’s just more for the tub.”

As he started to strip the bedding, Jemma hugged him tightly from behind. After pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, she whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry. We can get my sheets dirty later.”


End file.
